


not scared

by whyoperate



Category: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Hurt Jughead Jones, Jughead Jones Whump, Jughead Jones-centric, Sick Jughead Jones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 16:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21018944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyoperate/pseuds/whyoperate
Summary: just a little something about jughead's body hating him





	not scared

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this is my first time posting anything on ao3, so please understand that this may not be good at all!! it might be garbage!! but i'll never know unless i try

Jughead had never demanded the spotlight. Never wanted more than the bare essentials in life as an entirety, and much less in relationships. He was a low-maintenance friend in general. He always gave more than he took. That was just who he was.  
It had started with headaches. Well--migraines, actually. There was hardly a day when Jughead didn’t have headaches, but these were different. They were centered at one specific location on the side of his head. He’d checked that spot multiple times in the mirror of the bathroom at the drive-in, but there was never anything to see. Just his scalp, as normal as it ever was. Then, he started getting sick. He brought up whatever he managed to eat, and then some. Nausea always plagued him. He stopped eating.  
So now, he was skinny. More so than he’d been in the past. His bones were prominent, especially in his collarbones and spine, when he’d bend over. It was almost grotesque. But he went on like nothing was happening to him. He’d just shrug and carry on, in typical Jughead fashion.  
“Hey,” He called out as he walked towards Archie’s locker. “Do you have any painkillers, by chance? Odd question, I know. I just have a bitch of a headache.” Secretly, Jughead was praying that Archie had some of the good stuff on him. The migraines were getting worse, and he had a grand total of seven dollars to his name. It wasn’t like he was swimming in Advil. Then, by the grace of God, Archie pulled out two packets of gel tablets for him. “The only reason I’m giving you two is because you look like hell.” The redhead said pointedly. Jughead nodded, which in hindsight, was a mistake. The movement only aggravated the pain. Archie held out a hand to grab the other teen’s shoulder (only to steady him. He looked ready to fall over). “Hey, you alright? I mean, besides the headache.” Jughead loved Archie Andrews like a brother, but sometimes the guy was just so naive. “Yes, Arch, I’m peachy, as always.” He hadn’t meant to snap. It just happened. The taller of the two widened his eyes without even needing to think about it, taking a step back to distance himself from the other. “Alright. I’ll uh—” He looked down the hall. “Sorry.” And then he was gone.  
It might not come as a surprise, but Jughead hated himself. He did things reflexively that tended to ruin his life. He pushed people away. He forgot to take care of himself. He isolated himself because it was comfortable. He was sad because it was comfortable. Don’t get him wrong, Jughead would love to be happy, but he always ended up self-sabotaging himself so that he could be sad again; he’d been sad for so, so long, that it was just his norm now. He was always caught on the line between caring a little bit and not giving a single shit. It was incredibly scary. Jughead was scared and hurt and sad all day, every day.

That was just his norm.


End file.
